


Rebellion Never Felt So Good

by through_shadows_falling



Series: Supernatural Ficlets [28]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Assassin Castiel, Awkwardness, Dean Smith - Freeform, First Meetings, Guns, M/M, POV Castiel, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 08:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4427858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/through_shadows_falling/pseuds/through_shadows_falling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel knew the protocol, but he really didn’t want to have to use it. </p><p>‘It’ being murder of the innocent man who’d just returned to his apartment at the wrong time. Castiel’s intel from Gabriel had said that the man - some D. Smith - was on vacation, so his apartment was supposed to be empty. </p><p>Apparently not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rebellion Never Felt So Good

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for my 200th follower, awwdorablecas who requested:
> 
> “How about Destiel with this: All my intel said you’re not meant to be back until next week and I’m sitting here using your flat as a sniper nest to kill a bad guy. This is awkward.’ AU.” Can be nice or not so nice ;)”

Castiel’s first thought, as the doorknob rattled, was _SHIT_.

The second was something along the lines of, _If I get out of this, I’m going to kill Gabriel._

Because this was a precarious situation, and though Castiel knew the protocol, he really didn’t want to have to use it.

‘It’ being murder of the innocent man who’d just returned to his apartment at the wrong time. Castiel’s intel from Gabriel had said that the man - some D. Smith - was on vacation, so his apartment was supposed to be empty.

His apartment, which also happened to be the perfect vantage point into the suite of none other than Fergus Crowley across the road.

Crowley, for lack of a better term, was pure evil. Castiel knew he couldn’t talk much, having grown up in a crime syndicate and trained to be an assassin from an early age. But at least there was some honor in his family’s business. They avoided collateral damage as much as possible, and disowned anyone who broke the strict rules in place.

Rules Castiel would have to obey as D. Smith entered his kitchen and closed the door behind him.

The expression on his face would’ve been comical in any other situation, but Castiel’s gut soured. The man didn’t deserve to die for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but what was he supposed to do?

“What the fuck,” the man breathed. His eyes widened at the sight of Castiel poised under a sniper rifle and tripod set up at his living room window. He carefully set down his suitcase, each movement slow and precise. He squeaked when Castiel drew a smaller pistol from his trench coat.

“Whatever I did, I’m sorry! I just...oh god, oh god...” he babbled as he backed into the kitchen counter.

Castiel’s gaze swept over him. Damn. The guy was like a male model. White, well-built, with short hair, a perfectly symmetrical, freckled face, and nice full lips. He wore khakis, red suspenders, and a blue polo shirt, which marked him as some sort of sexy businessman.

Erm, just businessman. It was wrong on so many levels for Castiel to fantasize about a man he was about to kill.

“What’s your name?” Castiel blurted out. He winced. His voice was hoarse from disuse, as he’d been scoping out his target for a few days all by himself.

“D-Dean. Sir.”

“Sir?” Castiel raised an eyebrow in amusement.

Dean closed his eyes, and Castiel could see him berating himself.

“Um, sorry. It’s just a reflex from my old man. I didn’t mean to call you sir. I can call you whatever you want, I mean...?”

Castiel caught himself smirking and pointedly reined it in. Remember the mission.

“I’m sorry you had to see this, Dean.”

“See what? I didn’t see anything!” Dean’s hands scrabbled for the counter top behind him, and his knuckles whitened as he clutched it tight. “You know, I was just about to go! My boss called me back early, but hey, screw him, I’ve wracked up enough vacation time to take off a whole month! I think I’ll go do that!” He started to inch toward the door, but Castiel sighed.

“I can’t let you leave.” He twisted a silencer onto the end of his gun, and Dean whimpered.

“Come on, man. I won’t squeal on you, I promise! I mean, I know I’ve seen your face and it’s a really nice face and all, but I can keep quiet!”

Castiel paused in his actions as his brain fixated on what Dean had said. “Was that a flirtation?” he asked.

“I, uh...w-what?” Dean said.

“You said I have a nice face.”

Dean gulped. “Well. I can’t lie when you’re holding a gun.”

Castiel cocked his head. “That’s when people lie the most, actually. At least in my experience.”

“In your experience. Oh. Fantastic. I’m so glad this isn’t your first rodeo,” Dean said, an airy quality to his voice. Pit stains widened under his arms, and sweat beaded his brow. He fidgeted.

“What does a rodeo have anything to do with this situation?” Castiel asked.

Dean huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “It’s just an expression, dude. I um...oh my god.” He inhaled and seemed to brace himself. “Look, can we just...get this over with, please? I don’t do well with waiting because I just start thinking way too much, like how I’m gonna miss Sammy’s wedding and I won’t get to see any of his rugrats, or have any of my own for that matter. Not that there’s a girl in the picture, or a boy, because I swing both ways, but you know. No future here. I’m a dead man, right? Man, my boss is gonna be pissed, but then again he’s always pissed. Sucks. I was going to get promoted, too.”

Castiel blinked at the information overload. He had to admit, Dean was one of his more interesting missions. Well, side-mission, really.

“Oh shit,” Dean said all of a sudden.

“What is it?”

“I’m like gonna piss myself, and I’d really rather die without pissing myself, you know? Of course I’m not gonna have a choice in the matter after I die, because I heard your body just like, lets loose, but uh... I’d rather not deal with that as my last memory.”

“Are you...asking to go to the bathroom?”

“Um, yeah? Kinda? I’m not gonna pull any funny business. Just strictly pissing.”

“Okay,” Castiel said. He gestured toward the bathroom with his gun and Dean practically flew. The small room was between the kitchen and living room, so Castiel could see everything. “Keep the door open,” He added, and Dean nodded and took his place before the toilet.

“Sure thing, boss man. Man with the gun. Really hot dude with a gun.” His back was to Castiel, but he must’ve pulled himself out because he started peeing.

Castiel was impressed. Most people under this kind of pressure couldn’t pee when it came down to it.

But wait, why was he giving Dean the chance to relieve himself? Why was he thinking all of these ridiculous thoughts? He had a mission, and Dean was in the way.

Castiel snuck a peek back at Crowley’s suite. Still nothing yet.

“I don’t want to do this, you know,” Castiel said as Dean zipped up and went to wash his hands.

“Um. Not my place to say anything but if you don’t want to do it...then don’t?” Dean’s voice broke as he roughly dried his hands on a towel.

Castiel sighed. “It’s not that simple, I’m afraid.”

Dean held up his hands in surrender as he resumed his place in the kitchen.

Castiel glanced down at the gun in his lap. Killing Dean would be his first time actually killing an innocent, and unlike what he did normally, he’d have to shoot him at close range. The man’s blood would literally be on his hands.

But the rules were rules. Right?

“What do you do for a living?” Castiel found himself asking. Why? Because his traitorous brain was interested, and damn it, he was stalling, wasn’t he?

“I’m the director of sales and marketing at Sandover. You?” Dean grimaced. “Sorry. I guess you uh...you shoot people.”

“My cover is a flower shop on Main.”

“Wait, not Honey Bees?”

“You know it?”

“Yeah. I got flowers from there last year to put on my mom’s grave.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.”

Dean shrugged. “It was a long time ago. A fire when we were kids.”

Castiel swallowed. “But the pain never really does go away, does it?”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed softly. “You lose someone?”

Castiel swallowed. “My sister.”

Anna had rebelled against the ‘killing innocents who see you’ rule, and had lost their family’s protection. When a man with a grudge went after her, she died alone. He had nightmares for weeks imagining the gruesome scene.

Silence descended. Castiel fiddled with his pistol as his stomach churned. He couldn’t disobey, but...

He raised his head to meet Dean’s shifting eyes. The man was squirming where he stood, unsure if he could relax or not. Castiel had been in his situation before, and he knew that the waiting was the worst part.

Castiel steeled himself. He wasn’t that kind of killer. For Anna, then. His heart pounded with adrenaline.

“Dean. Listen to me very carefully.”

Dean went ramrod straight as he sucked in a breath. “Okay?”

“You need to turn around and leave, but don’t let anyone see you. Destroy all evidence that you returned early. Burn any ticket stubs, any receipts, that showed you were in the city during this time. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes. Got it.”

“If you happen to recognize me in public, don’t talk to me or act like you know me. No one can know that we met and spoke and that you saw my face. Forget all details about me.”

“That’s too bad. You’re super hot.” Dean clapped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry,” he said, his voice muffled. “I’ll do what you said. I promise.”

Castiel’s lips twitched. It was too bad that he couldn’t get to know Dean better.

“Alright. Well, then move along. And make sure no one sees you, got it?”

“But what about the cameras in the lobby?”

“I’ll take care of them. Just go.”

Dean nodded and then grabbed his suitcase. “Okay. Well. Um. Bye. And thanks. For not killing me. See you arou-I mean. Yeah. Bye.”

“Goodbye, Dean. And good luck on your promotion.”

Dean shot him a thin smile. Then he stumbled his way out the door.

Once he’d gone, Castiel released a breath. His skin tingled with excitement and fear all at once. He’d just rebelled. And it felt...it felt...

It felt good.

He’d have to do it more often.

Castiel smirked to himself. He peered through the scope of his sniper rifle. Still nothing across the street, but he could wait.

He could wait and imagine his own future. He didn’t know if he’d have one after this, but...it felt good and right, to let Dean live. Perhaps there was something to rebelling after all.

And secretly, despite everything he’d said, Castiel hoped they might meet again.


End file.
